Meeting Kitty
by AshenWhisper
Summary: Rated T for 1 swear. Molly's attempt to befriend a stranger at Sherlock's funeral ends horribly when she turns out to be Kitty Reilly, the woman who discredited Sherlock. If continued, it will change into a LestradxMolly fic, but the 1st ch. has no ship.
1. Chapter 1

The speaker's flowery words at the funeral seemed to last forever to Molly. Her eyes darted around everywhere. From the back of Lestrade's head, to the back of Donovan and Anderson. She wasn't sure what had possessed the two to come, but maybe they did care. It isn't every day a co-worker dies.

She found herself looking down at her hand, the black coat she'd put on over her regular sweater covering up much of them. _No... to them, it's suicide. _Her heart stirred. She couldn't imagine what she'd be going through she'd thought Sherlock had taken his own life. She found her eyes wandering the front row of seats in the funeral home again. A few seats down from them was Mycroft, his face like that of a man playing poker, his chin angled upwards as he listened to the words. And then there was John. He was sitting at the edge of the row, Mrs. Hudson occupying the seat next to him. The old woman was small in her chair, blowing noisily into a tissue. John sat, his head down, like a figure carved from stone. Molly was on the other side of the second row, and couldn't make out his face. Her heart moved again. _He needs to tell them._

She let out a slow breath. Molly hated it, pretending to be sad about a death that didn't happen. She'd always been so straightforward, and pretending was not something that came natural to her. But she'd agreed to let Sherlock tell who he wanted when he wanted to. And now it was coming back to bite her.

What really distracted Molly was the woman who'd taken the seat next to her. She wore a smart black suit-style shirt and a hemmed gray skirt, and scratched away notes on her notepad every few moments for the last hour of the Sherlock's service.

_There it goes again. _Molly stole a glance at the sheet, but once she did the ginger began writing again, blocking her view. She let out a breath of frustration, and looked up at the speaker, a short man in a suit. She had been right, he was tying up. He said a short goodbye, and soon everyone around her was standing up. She followed suit, as did the woman. Molly intended to go straight home, with a quick goodbye to her friends. She would have loved to try and comfort them, but she wasn't sure how many wet eyes she could look at before "I helped fake Sherlock's death, he's alive," spilled out her lips. It was safest not to risk it.

But the woman she didn't recognize had wet eyes. She couldn't help but wonder who it was. Not a friend of Sherlock, definitely. _An ex? _She shut down the thought, it made her more distracted than she would admit. But the woman had been crying, and had come alone. _Does she have anyone to help her?_

Molly found herself worried for the stranger, and took an act intended for kindness, unknowing how much she'd regret it.

"Hello," She said, a weak smile.

The woman straightened up, slipping her notepad and pen into her handbag. "Hello." Her response was curt.

"So..." Molly remembered why she'd never been good at making friends. "Did you know Sherlock?" She froze, realizing what she'd said. "I mean... if you don't want to talk about it, I understand, I didn't mean to... I was just wondering... I'm sorry." She stumbled through the words.

"It's fine," The woman said. "I'm Kitty, pleased to meet you." She stuck out a hand. Molly took it.

"Molly Hooper." She said, giving a weak smile. "I just saw you crying a bit, I was wondering if you were okay?"

Kitty reached up and touched the edge of her eyes. "Oh, look at that, you're right." She brought her arm back down. "But not for this man. I just came here to take some notes."

"Notes?"

"I'm a journalist. I was curious as to what a fraud's funeral would be like." Molly's stomach twisted. _Fraud. _She'd grown sick of the word. "I'll be writing about it. You can look for my article in the paper tomorrow."

"Kitty," Molly repeated the name to herself. "You.. you we're..." Realization struck Molly. "That article."

Kitty let out a sigh. "Yes, my claim to fame," She let a smile cross her lips. "Of course I couldn't have done it without... my informant..." She sniffed and reached up to her eyes again. "That's what I'm crying about. Not that fool Sherlock."

Molly ignored the snide comment as things began to come together in her head. "Your informant...?"

"Richard Brook."

Molly's eyes widened. She had heard Sherlock's story, she'd even heard a bit from John, about Moriarty calling himself 'Richard Brook.' _She's crying over Moriarty. _Something boiled inside of her, but her mouth stumbled around like usual. "Rich... Richard Brook?"

"The actor," Kitty said, looking past Molly for a moment. We were living together before," She took a pause and sniffed. "He died."

"You were living... with Jim Moriarty..." Molly wasn't sure why she found this such a shock. She'd gone on three dates with him and never caught on. But living with him? _You would think..._

"Only for a short time. And his _name _is Richard Brook," The lady said sharply. "Don't tell me you're one of the nutters who still believes in Sherlock Holmes?"

Molly couldn't respond.

"Oh, please," Kitty said, rolling her eyes. "I lived with Rich, I would have knew who he was. He was a man who needed money and did some things he wasn't proud of because of the man in the casket over there," She gestured to the front of the room. "And it brought him to..." She sniffed, looking down, then back up to Molly. "Sherlock destroyed Richard. He was a monster."

Molly's insides were boiling. She suddenly wanted to let everything out, anything to disprove this horrible woman, but she tried to control herself. "Sherlock was not a monster," She said, quieter than she intended to. "Moriarty was a monster."

"How dare you," Kitty said, her voice low and intense, her lower lip shaking. "Moriarty didn't exist, or did you forget that? Sherlock said it with his own words, or so I've heard."

"I know Jim. He existed," Molly had never been rude to someone crying before, but suddenly she couldn't help it. She hadn't been this angry in a long time. "And you're a fool to believe otherwise."

"Who are you to say that?" She snapped. "Did you even know Richard?"

"I dated him!" Before Molly could stop herself, she'd yelled something she could barely admit normally to this stranger. She felt her heart coming up to her mouth and her lip shaking, and she turned her gaze downwards. "I went on three dates with Jim Moriarty. He played me to get to Sherlock. He's as real as I am."

"Molly?" Molly recognized Lestrade's voice as the man stepped over to her, but ignored it. "What's going on here?"

"Then I guess Sherlock is more ruthless than I thought," Kitty said. "To force him to keep up an act and date you as a character. It's cruel, to give you a false hope like that."

Her heart twisted with anger. "Sherlock had nothing to do with-"

"He must have hated you," Kitty said. "To involve you in his little game."

"What?"

"Miss Riley," Lestrade stepped in. "I don't think this is the time for-"

"Sherlock played both of us," Kitty said. "Driving my boyfriend to his death and making him fake date you."

"J-Jim dated me on his own," Molly said. Her voice was failing her as tears filled her eyes. "He played me, not Sh-Sherlock!"

"Molly..."

"A common enemy makes friends," Kitty recited. "Right? You don't have to worry about Sherlock hurting you again, he's gone now, thank goodness."

"Sherlock is not my enemy."

"You'll come to terms with it eventually," Kitty went on. "Soon the whole of England will know Sherlock was a psychopathic fraud, and you'll have to know you were wrong then."

"No, no," Molly said under her breath as a tear rolled down her cheek. Her fists were shaking.

"Ms. Riley, please leave," Lestrade said from next to her. "This really is not a good time."

"You'll know you were wrong soon," Kitty ignored Greg. "He destroyed Richard with guilt until it was too much. That bastard got what was coming to him."

Something snapped inside her. Before she knew what was happening, Molly had swung out her arm, and Lestrade's hand had grabbed onto her wrist just in time. Her eyes widened. _I almost hit her. _She let the anger in the pit of her stomach die down, as her eyes shot to the shocked woman. But she only stayed in shock for a moment before her eyes narrowed again.

"One day you'll understand. You don't know the truth." Kitty turned and, uttering one or two choice words, walked away.

Molly's eyes moved slowly to the hand on her wrist, letting her hand loosen from the fist. She looked up at Lestrade. "Greg... I'm... I'm sorry..." She looked down. She'd never let herself become so taken with anger in her life. She'd almost _hit _someone.

Lestrade held her arm for a moment, then lowered it, letting it slip out of his. "We're all going through a lot, Molly. It's best not to let our emotions get the best of us."

Molly gave him a weak nod, like a child being reprimanded. She reached up to her eye and stopped another tear. "You think Moriarty was real," She said quietly. "Don't you?"

Greg let out a long breath. "I'm not sure what I think right now," He said. There was a bit of silence. "Molly, let me buy you a coffee, okay?"

Molly sniffed. "But I-"

"I want to make sure you get home alright." His eyes were filled with concern. Molly couldn't imagine how confused the Detective Inspector must have been feeling, and here he was looking out for her. It was so admirable, she couldn't refuse him.

"Sure," She said.

"My car is this way," He started off, and Molly followed behind him. She was starting to stop crying. Seeing so much pain around her and all of the anger she had pent up because of Jim Moriarty was enough to make her cry easily. She wasn't sure how she'd manage to make it look like she was just upset about Sherlock sitting down to coffee with Lestrade. But somehow being with the Inspector made her feel safe, so she didn't worry much about it as she headed after him.

[Thanks so much for reading! I'm sorry if Molly and Kitty sounded OOC, I hadn't done much writing from their perspectives at all. Also for this fic I went with the idea that Moriarty really did die, but we don't really know for sure what will happen, with Gatiss and Moffat and all. And I suppose Kitty did some eavesdropping to find out about John's phone conversation with Sherlock. So yeah, that's all I've got. Hope you liked it!

If I do a second chapter, it will be totally different, because I ship GregxMolly and so I might do a fic about that. I'm splitting it up because if I do a second part it will be heavy on the shipping, and I know not everyone likes that. But anyways, thanks for reading!]


	2. Chapter 2

Molly's hands were nearly turning red from rubbing them together as she waited. She wasn't sure what Greg Lestrade was going to say to her when he got back to the table. Would he reprimand her? Would he get mad at her? Most importantly, would she be able to keep up the lie that Sherlock was dead? Sherlock wouldn't even tell John or his brother, she knew he didn't want Lestrade to know. She had to be careful. The thought made her bite her lip.

"Here," Molly started a bit when she heard the voice, thrown from her thoughts. Lestrade set down two cups, moving one towards her gently. He took the seat, not meeting Molly's eyes, which sent her mind into a frenzy of questions.

She knew she should say something, but she just couldn't think of what. She swallowed, feeling guilt wash over her at what she'd done and the secret she was keeping. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Greg looked at her for a moment, then sighed. "We're all going through a tough time right now, Molly. I just didn't think it would honor Sherlock's memory to hit someone at his funeral."

Molly hung her head, feeling more shame than she wanted to show. She stared down at the deep blue coffee mug. "I didn't want to. It's just... She said..."

"I heard her," Lestrade admitted. "I heard what you said to her." There was a pause as Molly met his eyes, and the silver-haired inspector settled into his seat. "She deserved that hit."

Molly's eyebrows came together. "Then why did you stop me?"

The man's eyes shifted away, then to his coffee mug. "My job is to follow rules and enforce them. Not to focus on what people deserve or don't. That, and..." He let out a breath. "I knew how deeply you'd regret hurting someone."

Molly was the one to let a pause take hold then. She tried to imagine what would happen if she'd hurt someone in front of John, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Lestrade... She felt a sort of shudder pass down her back. It would have been horrible. To cause all of the tricked people more pain... She didn't want to envision it. She looked up at the Detective with thankful eyes. "Thank you."

He looked away. "I just did the right thing..." He looked at her. "Molly," He suddenly spoke with a voice of authority, as if delivering something he'd thought over multiple times. "Sometimes in life we become lost in feelings of pain, or anger, or sorrow... What's important is to avoid getting so frustrated we act irrationally."

"Like I did," Molly mused.

"Well, yes..." Lestrade said. "You and Sherlock."

Molly's heart felt a pang. She couldn't imagine thinking Sherlock had actually taken his own life. A look of pain crossed over the detectives face, and Molly had to wonder. _Who's helping him? _Anderson and Donovan weren't close to him like that... "Have you been talking with John?" She asked out of concern she wouldn't share.

"No... The last time I saw John besides the funeral, he was under arrest because of me."

Molly felt another pang of empathy. She had heard Sherlock explain it to her earlier, but it had never hit her that the last time Lestrade saw Sherlock was arresting him. _Lestrade might be blaming himself. _"You did what you were supposed to," Molly muttered, then tried to speak louder. "None of this was your fault."

"Thank you for that," Lestrade said. "But I can't help but wonder if he would have done what he did if that hadn't have happened."

"If you didn't tell the authorities, one of the others would have. Maybe Anderson." Molly said.

"I guess that..." Lestrade froze. "How did you know about Anderson and Donovan's involvement?"

"Oh," Molly's heart started pounding, and she looked away from the DI's gaze. "I've been checking on John," She tried not to show how bitter the lie tasted in her expression. "He told me what happened."

"Oh," Lestrade said, taking a sip of his coffee. He lowered it slowly. "So you don't think it was my fault? I mean I suppose he would have done it anyway, but..." He looked up at her with a pained expression. "If I can be honest with you, it still hurts."

Molly read his eyes, and his tone, and thought she could almost see a mirror image of Sherlock's pain before the fall. Lestrade wasn't okay, and Molly could tell. And if she could guess right, he didn't have too many people to talk it over with. She took in a breath, reaching out to someone for the second time that day. "Detective..."

"You can call me Greg." He said softly.

"Greg, are you okay?" Greg raised an eyebrow, and Molly instantly tried to cover up her venture. "I mean, I don't mean to intrude or m-make assumptions, it's just that..." She tried to lock eyes with him. "I want to know that you'll be okay."

For a moment the detective just looked at her, then he looked down, a weak smile appearing on his face. "I thought the point of coming here was for me to make sure _you _were okay."

"So let me return the favor." She tried to keep her voice strong.

Greg paused, then looked up at her, all fake looks leaving his face as it took on a look of emptiness. "...No." He admitted after a long time.

Molly looked away from him, remembering something she had forgotten about since their Christmas party with Sherlock. "Greg, do you have your wife to talk to?"

She could see the nerve she struck as Greg's mouth turned to a frown, and he cast his gaze into his coffee. "Things are complicated right now," His voice sounded weak for a moment. "I think our marriage is going to end."

"Oh, Greg," Molly reached out and put her hand on his without thinking. "I'm so sorry!"

Greg looked to her hand, then to her. Molly realized what she'd done, and drew it back sharply.

"Oh, I'm sorry," She said. Her face turned pink as it occurred to her that she'd just taken the hand of a married man. "I didn't mean... I wasn't trying to..."

"No, it's alright," This time he reached out, taking her hand in his. Molly felt her pulse quicken a bit. "You were trying to be supportive. Besides, it doesn't sound like I'm going to be tied down for much longer."

"Greg," Molly tried to put firmness in her voice. "I am so sorry."

"It's just..." His voice trailed off, and he made eye contact with her again. "I thought I had it all straight. I was married, she loved me, I'd become a Detective Inspector, I was working with a genius, everything was working brilliantly. Everything was... perfect." He lowered his gaze. "But... she was having affairs, Sherlock was a fr-fraud," His voice shook like he had trouble admitting it. "They might demote me, they may even fire me. I've lost the respect of everyone around me because I chose to believe in her, and to believe in Sherlock. And now I'm paying the price of falling for a trick." His eyes looked moist, but not a tear fell. Molly, however, was already wiping two off of her cheek. Holding up the lie was becoming so painful as she wanted to come out with the truth.

_But would knowing he was right help him, even if it meant he could never tell anyone and he was still going to look like a fool? Knowing the truth doesn't really change anything, just makes it more complicated for him._ She swallowed, trying to keep the truth inside of her from escaping through her lips. "You never lost my respect."

"Thanks," He gave her a brief smile. "Am I crazy to be still holding on to my belief?" He gave her a look of honest questioning. "How would he have figured out that my wife, who he hadn't seen, was sleeping with someone he'd never met? How could he figure that out unless his 'deduction' thing was real?" Molly didn't answer, but Greg continued as if he didn't inspect her to. "To fake that he'd have to be a genius, and if he was a genius, he wouldn't be a fake... Am I crazy to still want to believe in him?"

"No, no, that's not crazy at all," Molly said, happy to support him without letting go of the truth.

"Maybe I'm in denial..." He paused. "Do you think Sherlock was a fraud?"

Molly didn't respond for a while, unsure of how to go about answering him. "I think... Well I don't think Sherlock would have lied to us."

A grim look came over his face as he didn't realize molly was referring to Sherlock being a fraud, not to Sherlock calling himself a fraud. That was the real lie._ But he doesn't know that. And he can't._

"I don't know why I'm talking like this," He admitted, wiping the edge of his eye. "I should be making sure you're alright. I mean, you did have your, erm... _connection _to Sherlock."

Molly's heart thudded. "No," She objected. "I mean, I don't mean no, it's just that... that doesn't matter right now..."

"I think it does," He said, stopping to take a sip of coffee. "I'm not sure what I'd do if I lost someone I was... interested in."

Molly tried to hide her cringe. "No, that doesn't matter anymore." She objected, louder than she intended to.

"Alright, alright," Lestrade held up his hands. There was a short vibrating sound, and Greg pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He read the screen, then muttered a bit of colorful wording. "They want me to go do some interrogating." He put his phone back into his pocket. "Are you almost finished?"

"Oh, yeah," Molly took a finishing swig of her coffee. "Thanks," She handed him the empty mug, standing up as he left to put it away.

"Sorry we have to rush out," He said. "But I've appreciated talking with you."

"Me too," She smiled a bit. "And I'm sorry for what I almost did." The two of them made there way out of the restaurant, and Molly felt her heart move bit as Greg put his hand on her shoulder to lead her in the direction of his car.

A small smile came over his face now. "It's probably a good thing you did."

Molly gave him a confused look. "Why?"

"Because after hearing what she said, if I hadn't been too distracted stopping you from hitting her, I probably would have punched her out myself."

[Hope you guys liked it! Thanks so much for all of the kind reviews on the first chapter, and the favorites and follows. This is it! I decided to go a lot lighter on the shipping than I thought I would and focus on the issues both of them are facing right now. I decided to avoid straight up saying Lestrade's marriage would definitively end, since I wasn't sure how the show is going to take it. We'll just have to wait and see. Hope you liked my shout out to #BelieveinSherlock. Alright, thanks for reading! R&R!]


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